It's No Go The Merry-go-round, It's No

I Was The Rector's Son, Born To The Anglican Order, Banned For Ever From The Candles Of The Irish Poor; The Chichesters Knelt In Marble At The End Of A Transept With Ruffs About Their Necks, Their Portion Sure.

A Pharaoh's Profile, A Krishna's Grace, Tail Like A Question Mark.

It's No Go My Honey Love, It's No Go My Poppet;work Your Hands From Day To Day, The Winds Will Blow The Profit.the Glass Is Falling Hour By Hour, The Glass Will Fall For Ever,but If You Break The Bloody Glass You Won't Hold Up The Weather.

Better Authentic Mammon Than A Bogus God.

You Know The Worst: Your Wills Are Fickle, Your Values Blurred, Your Hearts Impure And Your Past Life A Ruined Church-- But Let Your Poison Be Your Cure.